


Ancestors and Predecessors

by SodiumBicarb



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SodiumBicarb/pseuds/SodiumBicarb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes about Tony and everyone else in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony Stark and MIT

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No recognizable characters are mine. 
> 
> This has been in my computer for forever, but I'm very fond of it. I do believe that this chapter is premature, but I needed to post it to motivate me to finish it. There are more chapters, which are very briefly outlined, but we'll see if they actually get written. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> SoBi

MIT adored Tony Stark, even if the rest of the country hated him. It wasn’t because of the man’s genius, the donations, or the advancement of the university’s reputation; they had plenty of other alumni with the same qualifications, even if they weren’t in the same limelight as Stark. No, the professors and administration loved the boy ever since he was just a teen roaming their halls. Oh, he was a handful, surely, with his explosions and his hacking, but for every explosion, Tony Stark discovered something new and exciting, and if there was anything the professors loved more than grading papers (i.e. _everything_ ), it was explosions and inventions.

Students always forgot that the minds that taught them were the same minds that once sat in those lecture seats and the minds that created the theories printed in textbooks.

The man was loved universally on the campus, but was practically worshiped in the engineering department. Idolizing the man was a ritual there. Freshmen came in with illusions of knocking the man down, but upperclassmen left with respect in their eyes. In-between those years, those freshmen met with Stark over a dozen times, sometimes while the man slept in a lecture hall seat, sometimes while he fixed broken equipment in the lab.

Those students would be oblivious; Tony hardly looked like his GQ spread while wearing a squirrel tail on his face and shirts that were nearly as old as the Dean. But upperclassmen came to him, learned to stash blankets and pillows under the podium so that they always had them for the man’s impromptu visits, and sat in a protective circle around the inventor. They learned to break out of their shells and ask their questions; learned that not having equipment wasn't a reason to stop a project; it was a reason to build the equipment yourself.

Students kept their questions in their notebooks, ready for the man when he appeared, but as the Avengers became more public, the man appeared at MIT more as well. Soon, he appeared at least one a week. Then it escalated until Tony entered the hall in the middle of a lecture, dripping alien goo. Mr. Liu took a look at the beaten face and beckoned his TAs to take the man to his office.

None of the professors talked about it, even when their students whined and wheedled, but they could be seen around campus, ferrying supplies. Dr. Jenkins, named for his PhD in English literature and not because he was a medical doctor, was constantly seen in the chemistry department, where he had no business being, stealing ice from the ice machine. He had, on occasion, proofread Tony's research papers, and took great delight in goading his engineering friends that he was more up-to-date on their field than they were.

Ms. Priam, a grad student who basically taught the intro to inorganic chemistry class because the actually professor couldn't be arsed, entered every building's office and complained about a papercut and needing several rolls of gauze and disinfectant. One foolish man denied her.

She left and came back the next day with a gash across three knuckles and a defiant gaze. No one doubted her again.

But no matter how much the students and professors enjoyed having the man there, his presence brought up uncomfortable questions.

Why wasn't he at the hospital if he was hurt?

_'Everyone knows that he hates hospitals...'_

Why wasn't he with the other Avengers?

_'Were they more injured because they didn't have the Iron Man suit's protection? Were they still in the hospital?_

But no. Even when the Avengers finished the fight unscathed, Stark would undoubtedly show up at MIT.

Why wasn't he at the Tower? Was he avoiding Virginia Potts? Was MIT her version of 'the couch?'

_'Why not sleep in a ritzy hotel? Why here, in a dusty seat in a public space, where anyone could tweet your whereabouts?'_

The more questions they asked themselves, the more unsettled they became.

They only asked him the last question, to which Stark grinned.

“This is the only place I’m _guaranteed_ to sleep,” he responded cheekily. The professor rolled her eyes from across the room.

“You only came to class once a week. That was hardly enough time to start a habit.”

Stark shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah. That’s about how much I slept back then.”

“And now?” a timid sophomore asked.

He tilted his head.

“Twice a week now.”

Professor Blaine narrowed her eyes; Stark came into her class room _twice_ a week. Her instincts flared. Everyone in the world knew that there were enough rooms in Avengers Tower to be able to live there and never be disturbed, and personally, she knew that Stark Mansion was kept up, even if Tony hadn't visited in years. There was something fishy going on. 

* * *

Tony liked staying at MIT for a lot of reasons. He liked being close to the freshest minds in the field and recruiting them to his company, liked being around people who understood his projects and could give valuable insight on them, and most of all, with Nobel Prize winners and former CEOs amongst them, they treated him like a normal person. When he visited MIT, no one questioned him on the Avengers or Stark Industries’ latest merger; they asked him about Dum-E and You and his advancements in clean energy.

Sitting in the back of the lectures with their cell phone jamming technology, Tony ignored Fury’s enraged calls and Pepper’s insistent texts that he go back to work. Instead, he listened to the creative/classical/nonsensical answers the students gave to common engineering problems and took notes on how to think because no matter how unconventional Tony Stark was, he still had a certain way of thinking.

Years ago, after Afghanistan, Pepper learned that time spent at MIT was not time wasted and that it was infinitely more preferable than having Tony at strip clubs. Instead, in true efficient Pepper style, she set up a chat room that included herself, MIT professors, and Tony. Actually, Tony wasn’t invited, but no one batted an eye when he hacked himself in.

* * *

_PepperPotts: Where’s Tony now?_

_IRONMAN4EVA: breaking the laws of physics ;)_

_Prof.E: He’s in the neuroscience department, Ms. Potts._

_engineeringgenius: I think he’s trying to fry a student’s brain. [Symbol]_

_IRONMAN4EVA: who the fuck is this? … … … no texting during class, Gary!_

_engineeringgenius: imma tool. imma tool imma-_

_PepperPotts: Did you just steal a student’s phone?_

_IRONMAN4EVA: For science!_

* * *

Fury ordered him to build a helicarrier. On one hand, it was going to be _awesome_ , on another, there was a reason it hadn’t been made before.

He ambled towards the kitchen, eyes barely opened as he used his nose to sniff out the coffee machine. His bare feet padded quietly on the tiled floors, and he heard cartoons playing quietly on tv. Barton was up.

“Stark?” Great. So was Captain America.

“Yes, Capsicle?” Tony retorted as he reached for a mug.

“I wish-“ came Roger’s slightly irritated voice, which JARVIS interrupted.

“I recommend a spill-proof mug, sir.”

“I’m not a child, Jarvis!” Tony argued as he swung a ceramic mug at the ceiling. Rogers twitched in annoyance at being disregarded.

“Stark,” Roger’s continued, “You missed a team training session yesterday.”

Tony turned his back to the man and continued pouring his coffee into his mug, careful not to spill a single drop. He heard Roger’s small grunt of exasperation and sipped his drink.

“Does it matter?” he asked as he brushed past that bulk. “You’ve already submitted your request to remove me from the Avengers.” He turned the corner with a lackadaisical shrug in an attempt to hide a building sniffle. It hurt. The request _hurt_ when he found it, buried in SHIELD’s secure database. It hurt even more when Fury told him about it, in an attempt to make the man play nice, but Tony had given up by that point. He lived forty years with people rejecting him, this wasn’t new and he _wasn’t_ going to ‘beg’ to be a part of their boy band.

Dum-E’s claw clutched his shirt as he entered his lab. Tony’s head instinctively turned towards the armor.

Iron Man was the best decision he ever made…

…but the Avengers certainly weren’t.

* * *

He still built them a fucking helicarrier though, partly to prove that he can and partly because this will be his very expensive parting gift to the team.

He didn't sleep for days and when he did, it was in a moth eaten seat in the balcony of a lecture room that left a crick in his neck when he moved.

* * *

There was no official announcement stating that Iron Man left the Avengers because Iron Man didn’t; Tony Stark did. Tony hauled his stuff out of the tower and into Stark Mansion the day after the papers were finalized. Tony Stark would only be called in for the Apocalypse.

_(No, Thor, Ragnarok does not count… ok. Maybe it does.)_

* * *

Tony moped in one of the labs Howard funded at MIT. Students used his sleeping body as a paper weight and his hair as a way to entertain young, visiting children. He woke with his hair in haphazard pigtails and his elbow holding down schematics for a robotic thermos that talked dirty and thought, this was the best decision he’s ever made.

_Good job, teenage Tony. You finally did something right._

* * *

 

Professor Blaine began class with a picture of the helicarrier projected onto the wall. The quality was poor, quite obviously taken from a cell phone, but there was no mistaking the hunk of metal.

“Now, class. I know that this isn’t on the syllabus, but I felt it prudent for us to analyze new technology as it springs up to avoid being… _outdated_ ,” she enunciated the word delicately, as if it were a swear.

“Today, we will discuss the ‘helicarrier-’” the front row of students giggled at her air quotes, ”-how many of its elements belong to Tony Stark, and how it compares to most of Mr. Stark’s other work.

Who wants to begin?” Her smile likened a shark.

“It doesn’t talk back like Dum-E does!”

She raised a brow.

“ _Thank you_ , Gary. Anyone else?”

* * *

Pepper posted a short message in the chat room.

_Expect him for the next few days._

Acid-spitting frogs rained on Boston the Monday before the anniversary of Howard’s and Maria’s death. Iron Man fought with the other Avengers as if he never left, and the media cheered because it seemed that the rag tag group from the alien battle finally became a team, a ready defense against supernatural enemies.

The sappiest headlines abounded from every page of every newspaper. The populace had a sense of security.

Captain America and Iron Man clapped each other’s shoulders fondly for the cameras, but once they entered the helicarrier, their hands dropped like stones. Tony pressed the armor against the wall and stood silently near the door, ready to escape. The others headed towards the front.

A figure strode towards him. They paused by his elbow, arm outstretched to offer a thermos of hot chocolate.

Too skinny to be Rogers or Thor. Too quiet to be Barton. Too polite to be Widow. Too untattered to be Banner.

Suit pants.

Tony looked up, stared into Coulson’s eyes and promptly threw up. His remaining thought before he blacked out was that at least his helmet was off.

* * *

Tony hid himself in the men’s bathroom on the third floor for three days. It wasn't the most pleasant place because _hello, men’s bathroom_ , but this was the same bathroom he hid from bullies in and it was the same bathroom that he decided to hide from ghosts in.

One of the custodians taped an 'out-of-order sign' on the door to give him some peace. Tony didn't have the heart to tell whoever it was that the sign has probably _increased_ the bathroom’s traffic; horny students kept trying to sneak in to have a quickie.

Tony started sitting on the counter so that students knew immediately that this was _not_ the place for sex, even if he _was_ known for loose morals. Nope. Get out youngsters, no voyeurism kink fulfilled for you.

Tony huddled his knees to his chest and fidgeted. He avoided the stalls because that was gross, but he avoided the mirrors too.

He wasn't afraid of the hobo that would stare back at him because he knew fully well what he looked like when busy in the lab, but it was those dull, resigned eyes so reminiscent of his childhood that frightened him. As if he could see the shadow of Randall's gang turning the corner, as if he could calculate the velocity of Howard's hand...

He wasn't that pimply kid anymore; he was Tony Stark. Strong and rich and famous and a hero and-

-still the same broken kid that entered MIT with dreams of making his father proud.

Except he never made his father proud, which wasn’t a surprise because he couldn't even make _Captain America_ proud. and that man beamed every time the other guy managed to enter through a door and not a window.

Wasn't it funny that he failed both his childhood role models?

Or was it them who failed him?

* * *

“This is probably the cleanest I've ever seen you, Stark,” Bruce Wayne smirked from the doorway. Tony scrunched his nose at the intruder and whiffed the overwhelming scent of disinfectant and bleach.

“I came here to hide from ghosts, Wayne. You’re one of them.” Bruce frowned at the reference to his stint as a dead man.

“Let’s go Tony. I ordered Italian from that one place you like in Gotham,” Bruce charmed as he holds onto Tony’s arm. Tony cracked a grin.

“By ‘the one place you like,’ you mean Alfred’s kitchen, right? Because I’m pretty sure everyone in your city is trying to poison me.”

“ _Once_ , Tony,” the other replied as he led the shaggy man to the door.

“At _your_ restaurant.”

“Promptly fired."

“We need to visit a barber before we head to Gotham; Alfred would never let you in with that dead animal on your face," Bruce commented off-handedly as the duo continued down the hallway.

“But it’s _your_ house,” the shorter man whined.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

“Alfred could poison us both with no one the wiser.”

Tony laughed, a spark in his eyes.

From inside their classrooms, professors smiled in triumph.

* * *

(That was the great thing about MIT; they knew exactly which strings to pull and when. They weren't sure what was going on with the Avengers, but they knew that when the anniversary of the man’s parents’ death came around, the person to call was Bruce Wayne, another alumni and childhood friend of Tony. Pepper knew already; it was a ritual.

MIT realized something was amiss when they heard Fury scream through the receiver of Pepper’s phone. She shrugged nonchalantly.

_‘No, I don’t know where Tony is. I’m not his mother.’_

_‘No. he’s not in a meeting. Yes, he could be out of the country.’_

Professor Blaine narrowed her eyes. As an advisor to rival tech corporations, she frequently ran in the same circles as Stark and not once had she met an executive there who didn’t know how close Stark and Wayne were. If SHIELD and the Avengers didn’t know, well…

… engineers loved solving complex problems.


	2. Tony Stark and Charles Xavier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! I originally wrote this because I was craving some Hurt!Tony, but I've decided to make this a short anthology on Tony's relationships with other people.

_Ring. Ring._

Charles smiled fondly as waved down a cab. Around him, pedestrians milled about, unperturbed by the raucous AC/DC ringtone.

"Tony, you're early for our calls," he greeted. Ever since Charles moved back to England, Tony called him on the third Wednesday of the month, when the financial world was supposedly at its quietest, but Charles knew better. This was the same routine Tony had with Brian Xavier, when Wednesday mornings were the only time little Charles was with his parents and not a nanny.

"Hush, Charlie bear. I don't want Pepper to know that I can be early. Also, not why I called, kiddo."

Charles hummed noncommittally as he slipped into the back of a taxi.

"Not another pregnancy scare, I hope. I may be a geneticist, Tony, but my focus is not on paternity tests," he teased. His uncle sputtered.

"Slander! What have those tabloids been feeding you?! I'll have you know that-"

"The point, Tony," Charles huffed. He'd had a long morning, and there was a stack of papers begging to be graded on his desk. Long papers. Essays. Theses, really.

"-and you know that the last scare-"

"We're here, sir," the cabbie driver said. Charles held his phone between his shoulder and ear and paid the man.

"-but the important thing is that I've heard that you've been dating, and you've yet to invite me to meet the person," Tony huffed.

Charles paused in front of the Mansion doors, the key held limply in his fingers.

"Who in the world told you?" As far as he was aware, no one knew Tony's relation to him, and it wasn't like he and his date were ever photographed.

"What kind of uncle do you take me for?"

"Did you have Jarvis spy on me?"

"I would never!" Charles smiled at Tony's indignant squawk.

"You sound like a Victorian maiden, Uncle."

"I _have_ been flashing a lot of ankle recently..."

"I'm sure it was unavoidable at the beach."

"Naturally. But, about this partner; I'm free next week."

"Thursday will be best; I should have all my grading done by then."

* * *

Charles liked to keep the fact that his godfather was Tony Stark a secret, not because he was ashamed or afraid of the press, but because it was no one's business; if the public wasn't all that curious about his guardian when he was orphaned, they certainly had no right to be curious now.

Charles didn't bring every date to meet the man, only the ones that were serious, yet discrete, otherwise the entire world would know his relation to the man. He had a couple of people who he looked at and thought 'forever,' but none of those withstood Tony's scrutiny. Sometimes, Charles thought his uncle had telepathy too and forgot to mention it.

Out of politeness, Charles never read his partners' thoughts, at least, nothing more than surface thoughts that were usually mirrored on their faces, but Tony never needed a mutant power to screen the industry spies from the ones with secret motives, didn't need powers to know which partners wouldn't be able to cope with Charles' idiosyncrasies.

For over a decade, this method worked in their favor.

Then he met Erik, and knew that if he ever pursued a sexual relationship with the man, it would end in marriage because he couldn't risk losing this friendship over a fling. He was charmed by their chess games, their quiet conversations, their utter faith in their own ideologies.

Erik was the one, he knew. Had to be.

Charles made arrangements at Tony's favorite restaurant as soon as their conversation ended. Then he took a deep breath, and another, and called Erik.

* * *

Charles wore his best suit that night, a fine silk shirt without a hint of tweed in sight. It made Erik instantly suspicious, but the man held his tongue. For his faith, Charles gave his a peck on the cheek before driving them to the restaurant, humming the entire way.

Erik shifted nervously, but took care not to warp the car in his anxiousness. Charles beamed and gave the man another peck on the cheek before they entered.

The maitre d' escorted them.

Charles introduced Erik to his Uncle Tony, and it was glorious.

* * *

Charles owed the restaurant quite the hefty check. Not for broken furniture or anything as uncouth as that, but because between the two of them, Erik and Tony managed to scare away a majority of the restaurant's clientèle. Well, there may be several repulsor burns on the Persian rugs, and perhaps some of the silverware has lost any semblance of shape, but it was probably the sheer animosity that was radiating from the table.

Maybe Charles felt like he should be traumatized that the two didn't get along, but mostly he was pleased that they couldn't push each other around.

Charles didn't need nor want his partner to be cowed by the infamous Stark charm and power; he needed someone who could stand up for themselves and win.

Tony wouldn't admit it, but he was unsettled by Erik's sharp grin. And his ability to warp metal.

But his uncle was fearless, and if anything, he pushed all the buttons.

At the end of the night, when Charles had just tucked himself under his covers, Tony sent his approval.

* * *

Erik hated Charles' godfather, but loved Charles more, so whenever he fought the Avengers, he steered clear of Iron Man. Not once did he entertain the thought of crushing the suit like he could, and not once did he herd his teammates towards the man. And not once does Stark tell Charles, doesn't make the man worry any more than he has to. Charles was fully aware that he was still Magneto but kept quiet because sometimes it was the end the mattered, not the journey, and Stark understood that.

Erik may hate Tony Stark, and Tony Stark hated him, but Erik couldn't deny what the man's done for Charles, and really, if he was going to ask Charles to marry him, his fiancé is going to need someone to walk him down the aisle.


	3. Tony Stark and Colonel James "Rhodey" Rhodes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, none of these characters are mine.

 

It doesn’t matter how they met; what mattered was how they ended. Sure, James pulled a teenage Tony out of more frat house fights than the boy deserved, and sure, he was there to witness every dumb stunt the kid did at MIT. But he doesn't tell anyone that. 

He doesn't tell his Air Force buddies, no matter how much they wheedle, and now, doesn't tell the Avengers or the Agents, no matter how curious they are. 

Anyone who deserved the stories were there, and those that weren't knew better than to ask. 

This left the jaded ones, the wannabe friends and the journalists, who created ludicrous stories of hijacking cars and naked strippers everywhere (well... strippers may feature in several of the actual stories, but the media still gets it wrong). But James remembered the night the tabloids began their journey into mud-slinging. He remembered cutting the kid off from pizza because James only had a few bucks to his name, and remembered long arguments over an even longer game of Minecraft. 

James was there went the fight began and knew that he would never see it end. 

The tabloids weren't sued for libel because Howard Stark couldn't get his head out of his ass for half a second. James had proof, though. Proof that Tony never touched the harder drugs, proof that less than half of those 'scandals' were head nods, and knew that not even a sliver of the truth would end up on the news. 

So, no, the media never learned of the stories that James knew; how he got his nickname, the night DUM-E was conceived... all of those stories don't matter and are never told. 

The real story of their relationship, of Tony and Rhodey, began the day they were no longer friends. 

When Colonel James "Rhodey" Rhodes took War Machine. 

It’s an origin story, much like the one Bruce Wayne had about Batman. (And wow, James really should have picked better friends). 

He doesn’t go to the party with the intention of taking the suit, even if the military had been breathing down his neck. He couldn't justify kidnapping, couldn't imagine taking Dum-E or You. 

So, no, James never wanted to take the suit. 

It happened, though, he can't refute that.

After Afghanistan, Tony grew up, but also de-aged. He stopped manufacturing weapons, a major point of contention between him and Bruce, but also went vigilante. He flew in his brightly painted suit and took out villains, as if he were playing children's pretend games. Pepper was concerned, tried to curb his more enthusiastic choices; kept out the starlets at the parties, but couldn't stop the parties themselves. 

This was a side of Tony that existed in the media, but not in real life. A fairytale bred from words from mouths. 

It wasn't... this wasn't Tony. This was the man Tony mocked every morning as he read the newspaper, the opposite man, the man Tony liked to think of as his evil twin. 

James saw this pale imitation of his best friend and lost it.  

He remembered regrettable words, broken glass, and most of all, confusion. 

The suit's plates slid over his frame like his Air Force uniform, tucked in and flared out at the right places. It fits a man taller, thinner, and longer-limbed than Tony Stark. 

Tony may have just engraved, "To Rhodey, with love, douchebag."

James didn’t report to the military base as instructed; he flew to Bruce Wayne's mansion and hopes that Gotham doesn't shoot him down. Bruce greeted him with a dark aura that would make the Penguin proud. 

“Rhodes.” 

James cowered behind the mask. 

“There’s something wrong with Tony.” 

Bruce wanted to protest; no matter how much the public and the Avengers thought that James was the man’s best friend, Bruce had been his oldest and most loyal. Bruce was there before James knew that Tony existed.

* * *

 

James told his story, and Bruce had an answer. 

Tony was dying. 

_Dying._

It explained why Tony was giving his tech away, why he gave the suit away. 

_Dying_ . 

It explained why Tony handed (read: forced) his company to Pepper. 

_Dying._

It also explained why Tony sold back his shares of Wayne Enterprises into Gotham. (And it wasn’t like he was giving them to Bruce, or even Fox; he gave them to Alfred.) 

* * *

He stayed in Gotham for several days, and ignored calls from his superiors. They were a part of the job that he never signed up for. (Not the orders, because  _everyone_ expected that. No, he wasn’t ready for the mass manipulation.)

Drunk as he was, he knew better than to venture out, than to read the newspapers. Instead, he sat on the balcony and watched headlights in the distance flicker out. In a world without Tony, he figured, every city would be like Gotham, full of Justin Hammers and Senator Sterns, dark metaphorically if not physically, with a bone-deep chill that could be tasted. He imagined himself as an android, more War Machine than man, guns blazed, in the center of nuclear missiles and flames. 

In his lucid dreaming, he saw the same kid he took care of decades ago, standing amongst rubble. Image blurred, and the last scene James recalled before being overtaken by delta waves was Tony standing by the window as Rhodey flew away with a suit. 

James woke hours later, knowing exactly what he had to do.

* * *

 

The military was pleased that he signed the suit over to them, even if it was under the provision that James was the only one able to pilot (thanks to Tony’s biometric precautions). He fielded Pepper’s angry calls and his buddies’ congratulations, and tried not to be hurt when Tony didn’t call.

Bruce didn’t call either, but Alfred was thoughtful enough to send a small bouquet at the unveiling of War Machine. 

James signed away his freedom, and everyone that once mattered to him scorned him for it. 

He didn’t regret it, because if signing away his soul meant that Tony had more breathing room, James would have signed over his  _grandmother’s_ soul too. 

Some people accused him of being a military lapdog, that he stole the suit, but they were wrong because James has only ever had Tony’s best interests at heart. This was more than stopping a kid from making typical, terrible decisions; James was saving a life.  

The moment Colonel James “Rhodey” Rhodes and Anthony Edward Stark are no longer friends, their story began. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be a part two for Rhodey. This little ficlet was stuck in my head and I had to write it. :)There's an accompanying piece with Nick Fury that should be posted within the month. 
> 
> Cheers

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments would be lovely, but absolutely not required. Oh, and please tell me of any mistakes you find so that I can fix them right away! 
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone!


End file.
